Underneath Canterbury there is a subterranean railway station

The station has three platforms

Each at angles to the others

The station was constructed over one hundred and fifty years ago

And was designed to serve Maidstone and a few coastal towns

The station has been threatened with closure on many occasions

But has always been reprieved

As the people of Canterbury love their subterranean station

 

I am sitting with my beloved Caron

Awaiting our train

Which has been reported late

 

My wife is wearing a red coat and black jeans

And unlike me is sitting on our old suitcase

Which has travel labels from all over the world

Attached to its grey fabric

 

About half an hour ago

I purchased two badges from the station porter

For forty pence each

The badges are colourful representations

Of the small steam locomotives

That still serve this station

 

An announcement informs me

That our train is due to arrive on platform six

I peer into the dark tunnel towards Maidstone

And note the distant lights of the train

 

My wife ignores my adventure

And with an accompanying orchestra

Sings sweetly about how plain the railway station seems

Against the architectural splendours of the city

 

In the last carriage of the train

I find the original plans of the station

Hidden beneath my seat

 

I hand them to the station porter

Who expresses gratitude

And notes that the plans often go missing

But always return to their home station